


Heartsong (Needs More Bass Drops)

by Taliax



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Bob Roth has no rights, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Humor, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Luxy, Luxy Week 2020, M/M, Mentioned Lukanette, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, didn't expect this fic to be the first time i used that tag, those previous two tags are inseperably connected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23940973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliax/pseuds/Taliax
Summary: Luka is just minding his own business.  XY is just hanging from the side of his boat.Of course XY isn't going to shut up and leave him alone... but maybe Luka doesn't want him to.
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/XY (Miraculous Ladybug)
Comments: 79
Kudos: 78
Collections: Luxy Week 2020





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bugaboo_n_bananoir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugaboo_n_bananoir/gifts).



> Special thanks to Janai and Maddy for beta reading for me!! And being inspirations bc I wouldn’t ship this otherwise lol
> 
> Luxy rights [dabs]

“C’mon, man, _please!_ This place is such an unsexy trash heap, she’ll never think to look for me here!”

Luka blinked down at XY from the Liberty’s deck. _Straight_ down, because the other boy was currently dangling from the side of the ship. How had he even gotten there? Tried to jump? They had a plank, but he hadn’t bothered to ask Luka to lower it. Luka probably wouldn’t have known he was there if he hadn’t watched his face smush against his bedroom porthole.

The smart thing might have been to ask _“what are you doing here,”_ or maybe even _“what makes you think I’ll do you any favors?”_ But XY would probably have an easier time answering questions when he wasn’t hanging on by his manicured fingertips.

“Fine.” He reached a hand down to haul him up.

“Woah!” XY exclaimed at being yanked on deck. Luka didn’t know why he was surprised. He weighed almost as little as Marinette.

He dusted off his purple jacket with a sneer. “Gross, I think I touched a barnacle.”

“We don’t have barnacles.” Only because Officer Roger made them scrape the hull once a month, but still. “You mind telling me why you’re here?”

“Pshaw, _yeah_. _”_ He plopped down in one of the folding chairs and crossed his feet on the table like he owned the place. Unsurprising, considering his attitude said he owned _everything._ Including his music and Marinette’s designs.

Even though they’d appeared on Bob Roth’s show in the end, that sting never entirely went away. Maybe it was because it was his first (and only) time being akumatized, but the negative emotions still hung in the air like a discordant note.

Or maybe it was because music was meant to come from the heart, and Luka wasn’t convinced XY even had one.

He sighed and shook his head. It wouldn’t do any good to confront the boy again and risk another akumatization.

He settled down cross-legged in the chair farthest from XY, where he could still keep an eye on him, but not hear his obnoxious humming quite so clearly. Maybe working on Marinette’s melody would soothe some of his irritation away.

He was only three chords in when XY started talking.

“Do you know that blonde girl from the hotel? The mayor’s kid?”

Luka blinked blankly.

“Her name’s er—Cole? Clover?”

“Chloe? I think Marinette’s talked about her. Why?”

 _“Aaaaanyway,_ that girl’s been on my tail ever since we started staying at the hotel. She’s probably my biggest fan.”

“Good for you,” he replied in monotone, strumming a few more chords. Maybe a D minor would work there…

“No! _Awful_ for me! She wants to take me out for pasta. I don’t even _like_ pasta! Or girls!”

Luka blinked at that last bit. “Can’t you just tell her that?”

“Ugh, I _wish.”_ He sighed, flopping his arms over the sides of the chair so they dangled against the deck. “Dad says I can’t come out because it’ll be bad for my image. The only thing I’m good for is my pretty face.” 

He said it like it was a fact. Something about that turned Luka’s stomach. He couldn’t imagine hiding being bi from his family. Juleka knew she was lesbian practically since she was born, which made it a bit easier too, and it wasn’t like their mom cared either way. 

“Music should be about who you are on the inside, not just the way you look,” he said. “Hiding such an important part of who you are must make it difficult to hear the melodies in your heart.”

XY snorted. “Not sure what kind of hippie crap you’re talking about.”

Why was he even bothering? They weren’t friends. But still, this was the longest conversation he’d had with anyone outside of Juleka’s friends in… he couldn’t remember.

“Why did you tell me this, anyway?” He asked, shaking off the thought.

“You asked why I was here. Duh.” XY dug some wax out of his ear and flicked it on the deck.

“But you said—nevermind.” 

Unsure how else to react, Luka readjusted his guitar and tried to pick up Marinette’s melody again. But his fingers stumbled over the strings, refusing to press the right frets.

What did it mean that XY had come out to _him_ of all people, when he otherwise wasn’t allowed to? Didn’t he have anyone else to share his struggles with? Or was he just trying to draw on Luka’s sympathy to keep him from kicking him off the boat?

Probably that last one. After all, it didn’t seem like XY even knew this was Luka’s house when he showed up.

“I thought you were supposed to be good,” XY scoffed when Luka butchered another chord.

“I’m just playing the song in your heart. It’s not my fault you’re out of tune.”

The boy blinked, as if no one had called out like that before. Luka hadn’t even meant to, really—he should’ve just kept his mouth shut and let his music do the talking.

“I think my heart song needs more bass drops.”

“Wh— _that’s_ what you’re concerned with?”

“Uh, yeah? _Your_ heart might be a boring guitar solo, but I’ve gotta have some kind of beat.”

Luka just sighed and shook his head. “Play your own heartsong, then.”

If that was supposed to make XY shut up, it failed miserably.

“Huh. Sounds like your weird hippie stuff again.”

Luka didn’t point out that _he_ had been the one to argue what his heartsong would sound like in the first place.

“Dad wouldn’t want to hear something like that, anyway,” he mumbled. “Can’t top the charts with mushy junk.”

“Is that all you care about? Being number one?”

XY looked at him like he was stupid. “Yeah. Why else would I make music?”

Something in his gut twisted. It was just so _wrong,_ to hear someone talk about music like that. 

“Because you enjoy it? Because it lets you express yourself?” 

XY snorted. “Maybe that works for _you._ I can’t… it just doesn’t work like that.”

“Have you tried?”

_“Yeah!”_

Luka jumped at the anger in XY’s voice. It was nothing like the nasally drawl he was used to. 

His blue eyes flashed with regret before he settled back in the chair. “...Sorry. That wasn’t very cash money of me.”

XY? _Apologizing?_ What kind of nerve had he touched?

“...It’s okay, I guess,” Luka mumbled back.

XY scoffed and ran a hand through his gelled mess of hair. “This was stupid.”

“What?” This whole situation _was_ stupid, but probably not for the reasons XY thought.

“You’ve just—you’ve got all kinds of _ideas.”_

“Yeah? So?” Not everyone’s head could be as empty as his.

Luka received another of XY’s _are you stupid_ stares, which was pretty ironic considering which one of them had been hanging off the side of the boat a few minutes ago.

“My dad, no matter what he says—he _hates_ ideas.”

Luka shrugged. “Sounds like he doesn’t know much about music, then.”

“No, he knows _everything_ about music. What sells, what doesn’t. So when he said my original music sucked—I knew he was right.”

“That’s…” _That’s terrible_ didn’t cut it, just like it hadn’t cut it earlier. He shouldn’t care; it wasn’t like he owed XY his sympathy. Heck, he didn’t even _like_ him. 

But when it came to having your music rejected… he could only imagine what it would be like to have a family member deny such an important part of his soul.

He might have said that out loud, if the moment hadn’t been broken by a voice from the street.

“XY! Where are you? Stop being utterly ridiculous and come back! You said you were going to show me your new song!”

“I _didn’t say that,”_ XY hissed, pressing himself flat against the chair.

Luka sat up a bit straighter to see the blonde girl searching the street, her ponytail whipping back and forth.

“I’m guessing that’s Chloe,” he said.

XY clasped his hands together and made a face that was probably supposed to be puppy eyes. It would’ve worked a lot better if he stopped making those duck lips.

“Don’t rat me out, man, please! I know you don’t like my music, but you wouldn’t make me—”

“Please, just— _shut up.”_ Luka rubbed his temples. XY was going to give himself away by talking that loud.

For once, he actually listened. Chloe’s shouts rang out for a few more seconds before she decided he must not be at the riverside.

XY heaved a giant sigh. “Pretty cash money of you to hide me. I’d better get back now. Got some new holograms to touch up.”

“You make your own holograms?”

“Pshaw, _no._ Dad has people for that. They like seeing my gorgeous face while they’re at it though.”

Yeah, he should’ve seen that coming. He didn’t know why even now, he kept holding out hope that XY would show some trace of the _real_ music inside his heart. Maybe he really was just a tinny pop beat—but when he’d spoken about his dad, he almost sounded like he had a soulful rock ballad hiding under the surface.

Probably just wishful thinking.

XY stood up, brushed off his butt as if the Liberty’s “unsexy garbage” clung to him, and looked over the railing.

“So. Uh. How do I get off?”

Luka rolled his eyes. At least he hadn’t jumped off into the river.

“Let me get the plank.”

When he got done rolling the walkway over the edge of the boat to the street, he straightened back up and jumped.

“Didn’t anyone teach you about personal space?” He glared at XY, whose blue eyes were just inches from his. They might’ve been pretty if they weren’t so close he could barely see.

Then, as if this day couldn’t get any weirder, XY planted a smooch on his cheek.

“What the _heck_ are you doing?” Luka moved to wipe the spit off his face, but XY grabbed his wrist first.

“I just increased your face’s net worth by like, a billion euros! As thanks for getting me out of that jam. If you’re gonna wipe it off, at least sell the rag on ebay or something.” He winked.

“I should’ve left you on the side of the boat where you were hanging.”

“But you didn’t.” 

XY, being… _himself,_ almost fell into the river while throwing his hand sign from the plank. 

Luka snorted and shook his head. At least watching him make a fool of himself was entertaining.

“See you next time I need to hide from Cole. So probably like, tomorrow.”

“I didn’t invite you back. I didn’t invite you the first time.”

“Like you’d say no to the number one chart topper in Paris.”

“Number two.”

“Still not a no. See ya, Lucky!”

“It’s _Luka!”_

“Luke, right!”

Luka groaned. That boy was the human equivalent of an out-of-tune trumpet.

But his eyes still followed him down the street until he was out of sight.


	2. Perspiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka helps XY find some musical inspiration in unlikely places, and faces a revelation of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t going to continue this but here we are lol
> 
> Thank you to j_majka for organizing Luxy week (https://luxyweek.tumblr.com/post/617736378952859648/luxy-week-2020-prompts) and being so encouraging as I worked on this! Also thanks to bugaboo-n-bananoir for stanning luxy so hard it inspired me to participate! And mega thanks to chatnoirinette for beta reading and marinetteplztakeabreak for fact checking me on synths!! Couldn't have done this without any of you bros
> 
> This one falls under the “Collaboration” day but because I have 2 more chapters after it I’m not doing these in order lol. I should be posting every other day this week!

“Dude, can you play, like, anything besides the same four chords?”

Luka groaned and slammed his guitar down on the bed. “I don’t know, can you say anything that isn’t rude?”

“I’m just trying to help!” XY straightened from where he was slouched against the wall of Luka’s room.

Luka’s room. Which XY had invaded for the fourth time this week. He would’ve kept him above deck, but here there was less chance of Juleka seeing him and teasing him about it.

“Xavier—”

“It’s XY, bruh.”

_“Xavier,”_ Luka repeated, because he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of using the nickname that was reserved for his _peeps_. “You _literally_ ripped off my music. I don’t see you making anything better.”

XY scoffed. “I _could._ If I had my synths, and your, I don’t know, guitar noises—”

“No. I’m not falling for that again.”

“C’mon, dude! Tell me a bass-boosted version of your riffs wouldn’t be awesome!”

“ _Now_ you know what a riff is.” He rolled his eyes. Was XY _trying_ to be stupid? It was almost unbelievable that he’d put up with him for the past three days. He only allowed it because XY would surely be leaving the hotel in a week or two. Talentless or not, he _was_ an international pop star. He had to have things to do besides slum around in Paris, particularly in Luka’s “unsexy garbage heap.”

He’d been sure not to clean his room just to spite him.

Luka sighed and picked up his guitar again, but at that point XY was idly bouncing a rubber ball that he’d found among the clutter. The _thwump_ against the woven rug kept jarring him out of his groove.

“Whatever. If you’re just gonna play chords, at least do ‘Wonderwall’ again. That at least kind of slapped.”

“I’m not here for your entertainment. I’m still fine-tuning Marinette’s song.” 

Which would be much easier to do without XY’s background noise. With him around, all Luka could hear were sharps and twangs and _thump-thump-thump_ beats. Not the kind of music that would suit Marinette.

“What’s your deal with her, anyway? Is she paying you for this?”

“She’s… someone special,” Luka settled on, strumming a soft run. “I’m just happy to enjoy the music her presence brings.”

“So, like, she’s got some background music that follows her around? That’s pretty dope.”

“No, like—ugh, nevermind.” He guessed it _was_ like background music, her presence was so strong. She was just always _moving,_ and she had a way of inspiring others just by being there, and— 

“Yo.” 

When had XY gotten close enough to wave his hand in front of his face? For being so obnoxious the rest of the time, he somehow managed to be sneaky when he wanted to. Or maybe Luka had just been that caught up in thoughts of Marinette.

“So, basically, you’re ripping off this Martini’s BGM—”

“It’s _Marinette.”_

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, you’re just ripping off her beats, so hah.”

XY smirked, as if that was supposed to be a mic-dropping burn. 

Luka scooted back and put his guitar between them to keep the other boy from invading his space again. Though honestly, he was more likely to ignore it and crush the guitar with his knees.

“Did no one teach you the difference between inspiration and plagiarism?” Luka asked before shaking his head. “Nevermind. I know the answer to that.”

“I don’t vibe with ‘ _perspiration.’_ That’s what deodorant’s for.”

That was a joke. That had to be a joke, right? But XY’s blue eyes were still staring at him seriously.

_I can’t believe I almost thought those eyes were cute._

“That’s it.” He stood up and slung his guitar over his shoulder. “Enough sitting around. I’m going to show you what inspiration _really_ is.”

“Ooooooh.” XY sprawled across the now-open space of Luka’s bed, his palm braced against his cheek as he made the kissy face Luka had come to learn meant trouble. “You’re gonna sweat for me?”

Luka was about three seconds from slamming his head against the wall.

“Just _come on.”_

XXX

“Where are we going? Why do I have to wear your stupid hoodie? My hair is never gonna stick up straight after this.”

Luka tried to tune out XY’s constant stream of questions. He should be _glad_ Luka let him borrow his hoodie—it was probably the only thing keeping him from being swarmed by teenage girls as they walked to the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

When XY finally shut up, Luka glanced back to make sure he was still following. He half expected the other boy to have just gone back to the hotel, but there he was, still strolling casually and… sniffing Luka’s hoodie?

_“What are you doing.”_

“What?” XY’s head jerked up, like he hadn’t just been burying his nose in the crook of his ebow. “Nothing.”

“Stop sniffing my clothes. It’s weird.”

“You were the one who made me wear it.” He crossed his arms.

At risk of learning something he’d regret, Luka asked, _“Why_ are you sniffing my hoodie.”

“Y’know, I was expecting it to smell like your garbage heap, but you’ve got some kind of cologne that’s actually really—”

“Nevermind, I don’t want to know.” He just hoped his hoodie didn’t smell like XY by the end of the day.

What _did_ XY smell like, anyway? 

...That was a dumb question. He wasn’t going to think about it.

“Yo, what’s that sick noise?” XY perked up again, his head swiveling back and forth.

“What noise?” All Luka could hear were passing cars, chattering pedestrians, and—

_“Rloo-rloo, rloo-rloo.”_

Luka groaned at the sight of Mr. Ramier once again blowing into his pigeon call. How many times did Ladybug and Chat Noir have to teach him this lesson?

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.” Luka tugged on XY’s sleeve. Nothing good would come from hanging around the man when he was feeding his pigeons. Soon Officer Raincomprix would show up, and then Hawkmoth would akumatize Mr. Ramier for the seventeenth time, and then Luka would be stuck trying to keep XY from getting bombed by attack pigeons.

“Wait, I gotta see what kind of instrument that is! It’d make a great effect in my next track!”

XY pulled out of his grip and dashed off towards Mr. Ramier. Luka just sighed and dropped his forehead into his palm. 

Maybe he should just cut his losses, let XY keep his hoodie, and go back home. It wasn’t like XY would know what real inspiration was if it whacked him over the head, anyway.

But it was his favorite hoodie.

Thankfully, XY had scared away most of the pigeons when he charged towards Mr. Ramier, leaving the man frowning.

“Young man, can I help you?” He asked politely in spite of his obvious disappointment. 

Luka felt a pang of guilt. Before Hawkmoth had come around and made Mr. Ramier into an actual danger, he’d been pleasant to talk to from time to time. It wasn’t like Luka cared if feeding pigeons was technically against the law.

“Yeah! Can I have that sick instrument?” XY pointed to the bird call, and Mr. Ramier blinked.

“This? But I need it to call back my pigeons that you scared away. They’ll be quite hungry this fine afternoon. It’s been days since I’ve come to see them.”

“Pshaw, _birds_ don’t care about music.”

“It’s not even an instrument,” Luka muttered to himself, not that XY would care.

“My pigeons have excellent taste. I’m not sure what your point is, young man, but I cannot give up my pigeon call.”

Maybe it would be better if he did. At least then Mr. Ramier would have to have a different akumatized object during his next stint as Mister Pigeon.

Granted, taking the bird call would probably _lead_ to an akumatization…

“Leave him alone, Xavier,” Luka sighed.

Both XY and Mr. Ramier looked at him before bursting into a flurry of excuses.

“If you think I’m about to give him my prized pigeon call—”

“Bruh, it sounds so _cool—!”_

“I wasn’t bothering anyone—”

“Just imagine a nice dubstep beat with that—”

_“XY!”_ Luka finally snapped. “Sorry, Mr. Ramier, I forgot Xavier was your name too.”

XY and Mr. Ramier shared a glance.

_“Dude,”_ XY said, going in for a fist bump. 

Mr. Ramier raised an eyebrow. “Regardless of if we have the same name, you’re not getting my pigeon call. Good day.”

He brushed off his trousers and rose from the bench. A few pigeons trailed after him, pecking at the ground near his shoes.

“Aww, come on!” XY pursed his lips in a pout. It was ridiculous; he had enough money to buy a hundred bird calls.

Or there was an even simpler option.

“Mr. Ramier?” Luka asked before the man could stride away. “What if we recorded the sound of your bird call? Would that be alright?”

He blinked. “Why, of course. As long as you are polite to the pigeons when you call them.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” XY grinned while whipping out his phone. “This is gonna be _lit!”_

A few _rloo-rloos_ later, the pigeons were back in full force, and XY was satisfied. Why he cared so much about some weird noises was beyond Luka, but at least no one had been akumatized. 

“Say hello to Anarka for me.” Mr. Ramier waved as they left, and Luka guiltily waved back.

He hoped their next stop at Marinette’s house would be a little less dramatic.

XXX

Marinette’s jaw dropped. “You want me to _what!?”_

Luka winced. Marinette hadn’t spent all week with XY the way that he had. She didn’t know that while he was definitely annoying, he was also completely harmless—at least when his dad wasn’t around.

“I’m sorry if I upset you. I’ve just been trying to show Xavier what real musical inspiration looks like, and I’m always inspired when I’m around you.”

“Really? Well, um… th-thanks, Luka.” A cute blush stained her cheeks, but she quickly turned around and gestured to the pile of fabric on the desk behind her. “I’ve got _so much_ to get done though. Even if I wanted to help XY—and I can’t say I do after how he treated Kitty Section—I just don’t have time.”

She sighed, sounding legitimately regretful. He could practically hear the melancholy arpeggios backing her voice. It was tempting to sling his guitar off his back and play it for her now. 

“How would I inspire XY, anyway?” she asked him. “I know you’re, um… well, I understand how I could inspire _you_ , but that’s because…” She shook her head. “Nevermind. The point is, I’m not magic.”

Oh. Right. Luka had been so caught up in inspiring XY—and proving that Marinette was worth making music for—that he hadn’t exactly thought his plan through. XY had terrible taste in inspiration, if the bird call was anything to go by. He wouldn’t care.

Why did Luka _care_ if he cared?

“Yo, are you Marinade?”

She screamed and jumped on the back of her chaise when XY’s head poked up through the trapdoor. While he still wore Luka’s hoodie, the hood was down so his blond hair again stood straight up.

“Xavier, I told you to wait in the bakery,” Luka hissed under his breath. 

“Marinade’s parents said to bring up some pastries.” He shrugged and pushed the plate across the floor before folding his arms over the ledge.

“It’s Marinette,” she deadpanned, looking as stern as she could with her arms crossed while perched at the top of her chaise.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” XY looked at her like she was stupid, and Marinette glared. Not at him, but at _Luka._

He swallowed. Anger wasn’t a pleasant addition to her melody.

“You brought him _here?”_ she asked Luka, not bothering to lower her voice. “I know you wanted my help, but I’d rather you ask first.”

Right. Marinette was just always so willing to help everyone, but maybe he’d inadvertently taken advantage of that. After all, she clearly had _way_ more sewing jobs than he’d realized, and she’d only just recently finished their Kitty Section shirts.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, fingers twitching over his guitar strings. Maybe he’d have to throw in a clashing chord as a counterpoint to her sweet music.

“Wait, I remember you.” XY squinted up at her. “You’re the one who made those sick costumes, right?”

“Oh, _now_ he’ll admit it.” She threw her arms in the air.

“Hey, it’s not my fault Dad only gave me a few days to steal—er, come up with a costume design.” He finished climbing out the hatch and stared around the room. “I see why you called her persperational, Lu. These clothes are ballin’. Could use more purple, though.”

Marinette blinked, her mouth falling open dumbly. Luka had gotten used to most of XY’s weird American slang, but she probably wouldn’t know that was a pretty decent compliment.

“Let’s just leave before you steal something else.” Luka attempted to push XY back towards the hatch, but he slipped under his arm and made a break for Marinette’s desk. 

His foot landed on the sewing machine’s pedal, sending the needle whirring. No fabric was under it, but that didn’t stop Marinette from shouting.

“Quit it! You’ll tangle the bobbin thread and—don’t touch that! It’s for Nino’s birthday!” 

She looked to Luka for help as XY ran his hands over her black fabric. As if Luka knew how to control the reckless idiot. At least he’d stumbled off the pedal.

“Oooooh.” He ignored them both and held up the hoodie. There was green piping along the sides and pockets, and cat ears dangled from the hood. “Is Kneeknob some kind of furry?”

_“No.”_ Marinette snatched it out of his hands and inspected the stitching. It looked finished to Luka; he hoped XY hadn’t damaged it. But Marinette sighed in relief. “I know you’re pretty new to Paris, but even you should recognize the Chat Noir theme. Nino’s a big fan.”

“Pshaw, of course I’ve met Cat Noir.”

Luka grimaced at his American accent. Cat Noy-er. 

“He and Ladybug saved me from Lu when he went crazy,” XY continued. “He was so mad because we took—er, _remixed_ your designs, right? Are you his girlfriend?”

Luka tried his best not to blush. Marinette already knew that he liked her, and XY normally picked way worse nicknames than “Lu.” He had nothing to be embarrassed about—except the fact that he’d brought this idiot into her house.

“I—I’m...” She looked at Luka’s hopeful face and sighed. “No, I’m not. I’m in love with someone else.”

XY looked between the two of them. His blue eyes, normally glossed over with boredom, had an odd expression in them. “Huh. Your loss.”

Luka wasn’t sure if XY was talking to him or Marinette. Either way, he had to be joking. Just egging Luka on, trying to rile him up like he always did. Maybe he _wanted_ Luka to get akumatized again. Or maybe he was just mean.

He was so distracted trying to puzzle out XY’s probably meaningless words that he nearly missed XY haggling Marinette for a scrap of the fabric she’d used on the hoodie.

“I’d be a furry if I got to wear this kind of stuff,” he said, pocketing the black square. “I wouldn’t dress up as the Cat, though. You know who’s really cool? That snake dude I saw on the news. That tiny guitar was _very_ sexy.”

“It’s a lyre,” Luka said at the same time as Marinette. Why _that_ was the part they chose to dispute, he didn’t know. His face was burning by this point; it was probably best to get XY out before he either stole something or exposed Luka’s secret identity.

“Thank you for your time, Marinette,” he said quickly. “I’ll find someone else to teach XY about inspiration.”

“Of course. You know, you could always try asking Nino. He works in the same kind of genre as him. I hear he’s a fan, too.” She forced a grin and picked up the plate of pastries XY had left on the floor. 

Nino. Luka remembered him hanging around the Liberty every once in a while, though he’d never heard Nino’s music. He didn’t feel like sticking around long enough to get Nino’s number from Marinette; he’d text Juleka for it.

He was just about to disappear down the hatch when she spoke up again, her voice soft.

“And just so you know… I _am_ sorry.”

He gave her as gentle a smile as he could. “Don’t worry about it.”

He knew that she had a crush on Adrien. He couldn’t ask her to change the song in her heart.

He just hoped he could change the song in his.

XXX

“I still don’t get why you wanted me to see Marmalade so bad. I don’t make my own costumes.” XY was rubbing the black square of fabric between his fingers as they walked back towards the Liberty. “Did you think she’d see you with me and get jealous? Am I just some part of your plan to get a girlfriend? ’Cause that’s pretty unsexy of you.”

Luka rolled his eyes. As if anyone would be jealous of having to put up with _XY._

“Says the guy who’s only ever used people for selfish reasons.”

“Pshaw, have _not.”_ XY spun, walking backwards and nearly tripping into the crosswalk. 

Luka, out of reflex, reached for his hand. It was warmer than he expected as he yanked XY back upright.

XY froze for a moment. The other pedestrians streamed by on either side of the crosswalk. Luka’s eyes darted down to their linked hands. How had their fingers enlaced?

“Tell me one person you haven’t used, then.” Luka ignored the tingles that ran down his arm while dragging him to the other side of the street.

“I’m not using you _now,”_ he huffed, rubbing the hand Luka dropped against his pants. _“You’re_ the one who wanted to drag me around to see your not-girlfriend.”

“Because you wouldn’t shut up! If you’re going to trash talk my music, you can at least have the nerve to make your own!”

XY’s eyes widened at Luka’s outburst. His face looked a little bit red; was he about to snap back at him? Luka didn’t know if he could keep his calm, not after being rejected by Marinette again.

But no, XY recovered his cool. “I—I _will_ make my own music. I’m gonna make the most cash money music you’ve ever heard, and then you’ll regret ever sleeping on the _extra_ ordinary XY.”

He threw his hand sign and got a few odd looks from strangers on the street. If anyone recognized the gesture, they weren’t impressed. Or didn’t recognize him under Luka’s hoodie.

“Then prove it. We’ve still got one more stop to make.” 

Luka got out his cell phone and sent a few texts, quickly ending up with Nino’s address and permission to stop by.

If XY had even a note of music in his heart, Luka was going to find it.

XXX

“Dude, no _way!”_ Nino said when Luka sheepishly introduced XY at his apartment doorstep. _“Yeah_ you guys can come in! When you said you wanted to help a friend with some music, I didn’t think you meant you wanted _me_ to collab with _XY!”_

“Finally, a homie with some taste.” XY slung his arm around Nino’s neck, jostling his headphones. If Luka didn’t know better, he would’ve thought they were already friends. But XY was just overly familiar like that.

“You actually like his music?” Luka asked as they made their way to Nino’s room. The apartment was painted a dark brown, mostly tidy, but with patches of disorder that rivaled the Liberty. Video game cartridges, tiny dinosaurs, and toy robots spilled out of a bedroom that they passed.

Nino’s room was only marginally cleaner. Some shirts, sheets of homework—Luka shuddered at that—and records were piled on his desk and bed. What took up the most space, though, was the DJ’s turntable, synth board, and meter-high speaker system against the back wall.

“Who _doesn’t_ like XY’s music?” Nino asked as if Luka was the crazy one. “I mean, I know Adrien’s got some beef against him, but he’s always been more of a classics guy. Station Nation, Jagged Stone, stuff like that. But if you like electronic music, XY’s your man. And he’s in my bedroom!”

XY beamed, basking in the praise. Luka thought he’d be used to it, being an international pop star, but his joy seemed genuine. As did Nino’s. Marinette must never have told him about what really went down with Kitty Section. 

“Don’t get too excited. Xavier doesn't make his own music.”

_“Bruh!”_ XY smacked his arm. “Not cool!”

“What? It’s true. I brought you here for inspiration, not so you can take advantage of Nino’s talent.”

Maybe it would’ve been more tactful not to crush Nino’s opinion of one of his favorite artists, but Luka had never claimed to be good with words.

“...You’ve lost me.” Nino took off his cap and scratched his head. “XY, you need my help to make some music? Did you lose your spark or something?”

XY tugged at the chain around his neck, partially hidden beneath Luka’s hoodie. “Yeeeaaaaah, something like that. Lu thinks you can help me.”

“Marinette said you work in the same genre as Xavier,” Luka was quick to clarify, even while XY started poking around Nino’s room. “She suggested you, but you don’t owe me or him anything. You can say no.”

“Nah, it’s all good! Even if XY’s stuff isn’t all _him,_ it’s still pretty cool to get to work together in person. Marinette won’t be the only one who got to help out a star.” 

Nino cleared a space from his bed and rolled out his desk chair. XY wasted no time in flopping on the bed. No amount of inspiration would teach him the meaning of personal space.

Speaking of inspiration, Luka could already feel a quick beat pulsing from Nino. He _did_ have the energy of a musician as he powered up his stereo and synth, connecting wires to his clunky computer.

“That thing looks _old._ You’re really gonna make fresh tunes on that?”

“Ah, she’s old, but she’s got the best software pirating can buy.” Nino grinned. “Plus my bro Max beefed up the hardware. She’s not as much of a dinosaur as she looks.”

XY still frowned, but he shrugged. “You’re the expert, bruh.”

Was XY actually being… _nice?_ It didn’t make sense. When Luka had tried to help him, he had practically thrown a tantrum trying to get out of putting in his own effort. Maybe he still thought Nino would make a whole song for him.

But he didn’t. He walked him through the program, showing him the electronic instruments he could mix together, but the most he did was demo a few ten-second clips. Nothing XY could bother stealing.

Luka didn’t know enough about computers to follow most of what went on after that, though XY seemed to pick it up quickly. Heavy bass started to shake the floor in a way Luka’s mom would appreciate, but Nino’s neighbors probably wouldn’t. Nino didn’t seem to care. Or maybe he was just too caught up in helping XY to notice.

Eventually, they plugged in two sets of noise-cancelling headphones to continue, and Luka was left in a disconcerting silence. The only sound was the other boys’ occasional laughter or music-theory comments that he couldn’t follow. He knew enough to construct chords, but for the most part he just played what felt right, trusting his ear rather than any kind of formal training. All the technical jargon might as well have been another mispronunciation of XY’s, except that Nino said most of the words first.

He strummed a few basic chords once he realized the two couldn’t hear him over their own music. How had Nino done it? XY was grinning, nodding his head in time with the unheard music… and completely ignoring Luka.

Why did that itch at him? Luka didn’t _want_ to be saddled with XY. It had been frustration and annoyance that led him to take the boy around town in search of inspiration.

Well, he’d found it. XY was clearly getting along fine with Nino, without him.

Strings trembled beneath his fingers. His own heartsong stuttered out of rhythm. Too many diminished chords. Too quick a beat.

_This is stupid,_ he thought, tearing his gaze away from the back of Nino and XY’s heads. He had no reason to feel jealous of their collaboration, of the way Nino somehow earned XY’s praise. It was natural that their heartsongs would blend into a fine melody; they both worked with synths and software. Luka wouldn’t like whatever music they made, anyway.

He could’ve left. He wasn’t sure what prompted him to keep sitting there in silence, occasionally tuning his guitar and strumming a chord or two. He should at least be working on Marinette’s melody, but it sounded hollow after listening to the deep bass of Nino and XY. He could come back to it later. For now, he let himself draw on the inspiration around him: harsher, sharper chords and echoing notes that would sound better on his electric guitar. It wouldn’t be his first song choice—he probably wouldn’t even finish it—but there was something energizing about the discordant tune.

Was this what was in XY’s heart? He played up close to the tuning pegs for the deepest chords his instrument could summon. That wasn’t _quite_ right though; XY did have some higher pitched notes in him. The contrast was what made his song interesting.

Contrast. Between his stupid mispronunciations and the conflict with his dad. Between the way he nearly fell over every time he turned around and his strange ability to sneak up on Luka. Between his outburst about not making his own music, and his embarrassed apology afterward.

What did it all mean? And most of all, why did Luka _care?_

It wasn’t until his stomach growled loudly that he realized how long he’d been sitting and composing. Nino and XY were still sitting at the synth, too. XY’s fingers nimbly danced across the keys, though Luka still couldn’t hear any of the music. Why the headphones? Nino had giant speakers right there. Unless they were trying to be considerate of the neighbors after all. 

It _was_ dark by now, clearly past dinner time. He’d spent the whole day with XY. 

He stood up with a sigh and shook his shoulder. “We should head out. We don’t want to take up Nino’s whole night.”

XY pouted, as if he’d actually been _enjoying_ playing music. Luka did feel a small surge of satisfaction at that.

Nino slipped off his headphones. “You’re not bugging me, dudes. If you don’t have anywhere to be, you can totally chill here tonight. XY can keep working on his song, and I can order us a pizza.”

“That’d be tight.” XY grinned, holding his fist out to bump Nino’s. How were they already _that_ close?

Part of Luka wanted to reject Nino’s offer just because of that. But it was a Saturday night, and he _didn’t_ have anywhere to be. Mom probably wouldn’t even be home.

“Sure,” he sighed as XY let out a loud whoop. “I don’t see why not.”

XXX

Luka awoke to a foot in his ribs. He jolted up, nearly shouting, before realizing that it was just XY tripping over him.

Right. They’d spent the night at Nino’s, sharing an air mattress on the floor. Luka had wanted to take the couch in the living room, but XY insisted on having the “deluxe slumber party experience.” That was something else they had in common, he guessed—neither of them had ever had a sleepover with friends before. Nino had been appalled when he found out.

Four hours, three pizzas, and about twenty card games (that XY cheated at) later, they’d finally crashed for the night. Except XY hadn’t, apparently.

“Go back to sleep, man,” Luka groaned, rolling over. He’d been worried about XY flopping over on him in the middle of the night, but that would be preferable to this awakening.

_“You_ go back to sleep.”

Luka blinked against the sudden burst of light. He twisted around to see… XY booting up Nino’s computer?

The last dregs of sleep fled him as he scrambled to XY’s side. “No way. I did _not_ just spend all this time hanging out with you for you to rip off Nino’s music!”

“Wha— _that’s_ what you think I’m doing?” XY’s jaw dropped. Why was he surprised? He was obviously…

Pulling up the track he’d been working on earlier. The one titled _XY’s Very Cash Money Day._

“Oh.” Luka exhaled. “Wait, if you’re just working on that, then why did you get up _now?_ It’s”—he looked at the clock in the corner of the screen—“three a.m.!” 

Nino let out a loud snore, making him jump again. Maybe he should be quieter.

XY shrugged. “So?”

“So, you could’ve waited until morning.”

He shook his head. His normal gravity-defying hair had flattened during the short time he had slept, the gel finally wearing out. It was weird to watch stray strands dance around his face, catching the computer’s glow.

“These beats wait for no dude, dude.” He slipped on the headphones, disheveling his hair further. It looked surprisingly soft, considering how much hair gel he must have slathered in it.

“So you… just woke up because you were feeling inspired?”

Another shrug. “I don’t _think_ I sweat when I sleep.” 

XY sniffed his armpit. He was still wearing Luka’s hoodie; he hadn’t had any other clothes to change into, and he’d been just barely too tall to borrow Nino’s. 

“Nah, still smells like your sexy cologne.”

...How was Luka even supposed to _respond_ to that? He shook his head, hoping the computer’s light didn’t catch too much of the blush in his face.

“Inspiration, not perspiration. You know that.”

XY _had_ to know more than he let on. He’d understood Nino’s technical jargon, and he’d thrown together—presumably—a whole song in an afternoon. Luka didn’t know if it was any good; XY hadn’t allowed him to hear it.

“I don’t get it. Why did you steal music when you knew how to make your own songs all along? Unless Nino really inspired you that much.” He sat back down at the edge of the air mattress; it squished under his weight, almost leaving him on the floor.

XY laughed. _“Man,_ you’re dumb.”

“Wh—you’re telling me _I’m_ dumb?” He was used to XY’s insults, but this one didn’t even have context. Unless it was supposed to be obvious that stealing was easier than making his own songs. Either way, it didn’t sound like he was getting an explanation tonight.

XY wasn’t getting anywhere on his song tonight, either. He threw off the headphones and flopped back next to him. He was going to pop the mattress doing that. 

“I can’t work with you watching me. Your eyes are too… y’know.” He gestured vaguely. Luka could barely see him when the monitor flickered off.

“I really don’t.” 

“You’re just. Always _looking._ Like… I dunno. You expect to _see_ something.”

Luka blinked at that. What _did_ he expect to see? He knew XY was an art thief, and a pretty bad one at that. But that melody he’d felt from him today still intrigued him. Not a rock ballad by any means, but something still vibrant.

“I don’t know if I really _expect_ anything,” Luka murmured, lying back, so his head was at XY’s feet. His hands folded over his stomach. “But I guess… I hope there’s something in you, Xavier. Something that understands music beyond just wanting to be famous.”

XY was quiet for a long time. When he didn’t reply, Luka assumed he’d finally gone to sleep, and tried to roll over and do the same. Between Nino’s snores and the thin blanket, it was difficult to drift off again.

So he was still conscious when XY asked, “Do you really think I can do it?”

It was hard to hear from this angle. He turned around, so their heads were on the same side of the air mattress. Did XY really say what he’d thought?

“Y’know. Make my own music?” he whispered.

“I… yeah,” Luka said, surprising himself. He remembered the genuine joy on XY’s face when he’d been creating today. “I really do.”

“Then… thanks.”

In the faint light through the window, Luka could make out his smile. Not the duck lips, this time. The moonlight and late hour had stripped away some of his posturing.

“It’s nothing.” Luka shrugged, rolling over before he could think about just how warm that smile made him.

“‘Night, Lu. Dream of guitars, or whatever goes through your funky head.”

Luka snorted, suppressing a laugh. “’Night, XY.”

XY laughed back, a bright burst that somehow sounded less annoying than usual. “You said my name! You’re officially one of my peeps!”

He was probably going to regret that when XY teased him in the morning.

“I said _good night,”_ he repeated.

He didn’t regret it. Not the nickname, or the way that XY’s head had somehow rolled onto his chest as they slept, the tip of his hair tickling his nose.

It was going to take more than just a few chords to unravel the music _that_ left in his heart.


	3. Pizza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka doesn't miss XY. That would be stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XY’s canon songs were taken from this post: https://gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights.tumblr.com/post/618947361997242368/xys-tracklist-canon Thanks to Janai and Sunny and Mireille for decoding it!!

Luka stared deep into XY’s eyes. Well, the photograph’s eyes, from the back of the CD he held in his hands. Of course he couldn’t escape the pop star here, in the middle of his favorite music store. But he hadn’t needed to go directly to the end of the aisle and pick up the _Number One_ album.

Ironic. He said he couldn’t escape him, yet XY hadn’t crashed the Liberty in a week. Since the sleepover at Nino’s house. Had he just gotten his inspiration and left?

He’d kept Luka’s hoodie. Luka had forgotten to demand it back when XY had woken up and rushed out of the apartment, yelping something about his dad.

“You owe me,” Luka said to the album. XY’s melody had been beating under Luka’s skin for the last seven days. “You can’t just take my favorite hoodie and disappear.”

Luka didn’t even have his phone number. It was a stupid oversight, but he wasn’t used to having his own friends. If he needed a number, he usually asked Juleka.

Nino said he hadn’t come back, which was strange. XY always wanted attention; Luka had figured that if he wasn’t trying to leap onto the Liberty, he’d be at the other boy’s apartment. What had happened to his original song? Had he given up on it?

Had he actually stolen Nino’s music instead, like Luka had feared? Was the guilt keeping him away? Or did he just decide he had better things to do? 

Maybe he’d even left Paris by now. He’d never mentioned how long he’d be staying.

Luka shook his head. He didn’t know, and staring at XY’s _Number One_ album wasn’t going to give him any answers.

His eyes glanced down to the price tag. Not too expensive, but he still wouldn’t pay for it. XY had probably stolen all those songs. It would be wrong to give him and Bob Roth money for it.

So when he got home, he cracked open his laptop and pirated the album.

A few of the songs he recognized, probably from supermarket speakers or TV commercials. Most were unfamiliar though, except in how they mimicked each other. It was like XY only had one setting: repetitive pop beats. His tracks barely even had lyrics to differentiate them from each other. _Along the Beach with You_ had the addition of waves and seagull calls. _Urban Night_ was so autotuned he could barely make out the words. Was that even XY’s voice? It didn’t sound nasally enough.

Luka was just about to give up listening to the album when _I Miss You_ started. Soft, not as energetic as the other tracks. He strained to hear the words.

_I’m going crazy for you_

_I’m lost, where can I find you?_

_You’ve got my heart torn in two_

_Please, I just miss you_

Nothing unique. Lazy, even; he used “you” in three of the four rhymes. 

Luka hated that it sparked something in him, something that his guitar still hadn’t been able to untangle.

His own music wasn’t helping. XY’s music wasn’t helping. Staring at his face wasn’t helping.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he sighed as he strapped his guitar across his back.

Then he crept above deck, rolled out his bike, and pedaled off towards the Grand Paris Hotel.

XXX

XY paced across his hotel room as the song was exporting, the loading bar slowly, _slowly_ filling up. Why did it take so long? Making the song had already taken way more time than he expected. He hadn’t gotten to see Lu in days. What if Lu forgot all about him? A few times he’d thought about going back to that dumpster boat, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist bragging about his new song, and it needed to be a surprise.

He told Lu he was gonna make the most cash money music he’d ever heard. He hoped this track would be good enough. It probably wasn’t Lu’s style, but Marmalade hadn’t looked like she was his style either, and he liked _her._ He’d thrown a couple of her sewing machine noises into the track for good measure.

“Come on, stupid computer,” he muttered.

The door burst open just as he was thumping the monitor. His arms pinwheeled before he caught himself on the desk.

“Oh, uh, hey Dad.” He grinned too wide. “What brings you here?”

“What? I can’t see what my own son is up to?” He laughed loudly, making XY cringe. “I thought you were out with Andre’s girl again. You’re too young to be holed up in here.”

XY tried not to groan at the mention of Cole. She’d already tried to break into his room three times today. He’d pulled up Lu’s hood and hidden under the legs of his synth each time. Luckily he’d taken it off while pacing, not wanting to sweat too much in it, or else Dad might’ve asked why he was wearing something so ratty looking.

“I’m just trying to catch up on my music, Dad.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Ha! Searching for new tracks to steal? Proactive of you, I like it. You’re starting to think like a real star.”

XY’s stomach turned as his dad slung an arm around his shoulder. He shrugged him off.

He almost told him what he was really doing, but the words dried up in his mouth. Maybe Lu could spout whatever hippie crap came into his head, but XY couldn’t afford to.

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered instead.

“Looks like whatever you were downloading finished. Let’s hear it.” Dad plopped down into the cushy chair in front of his synth, leaving XY to stand.

“Uh—I dunno, Dad. It’s not—it’s nothing _great,_ y’know?”

He snorted. “Look, if you’re gonna steal, you gotta go big or go home.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Let’s just hear it. I’ll tell you what’s worth ripping off.” He folded his hands on the desk and waited.

XY didn’t let his nervousness show. He was a star. He didn’t get stage fright—okay, usually he wasn’t even on the stage, but still. 

_Lu_ wasn’t scared of standing up to Bob Roth. The least XY could do was play his own music.

He opened the exported audio file and hit play.

Smooth electronic beats came from the speakers. Bubbly, upbeat, with an undercurrent of bass. So far it didn’t sound much different from XY’s old music, the kind he’d made before Dad convinced him to steal instead.

Dad’s eyes narrowed, as if he realized this, but he didn’t say anything yet. Didn’t say anything for the entire song, even when he heard XY’s lyrics.

_Please ignore the lyrics please ignore the lyrics—_

His face looked like he'd eaten something nasty. Like pasta. “You’ve gotta stop stealing songs from girls, son. The pronouns are all wrong.”

“Uh, oops. Forgot to change it.” His heart fell. Dad _knew_ why his lyrics were like that, but he wouldn’t even say it out loud. He’d been stupid to let him hear the song, not that he’d had a choice. He would’ve finished it at Nino’s if the boy didn’t have to do dumb stuff like “go to school” and “do homework.”

“It’ll never be at the top of the charts, but you can use it to fill up space on your next album, I guess. You always need a few songs no one will actually listen to.”

XY bit his tongue. “Pshaw, yeah. That’s exactly what I stole it for.”

“Keep working, but pick a more mainstream beat next time. And on second thought, just scrap those lyrics. They’re clearly ameteur work. Who puts pigeons in a love song?”

Dad clapped him on the shoulder one last time before turning away, leaving XY numb.

_You always need a few songs no one will actually listen to._

_Just scrap those lyrics._

_Clearly ameteur work..._

The extraordinary XY did _not_ cry. But he might have sniffled a little.

“What are you doing here? Scram! I told you, we were just kidding about the record deal!”

XY jolted up, dashing for the door. He peeked past his dad’s looming figure to see— 

“Lu!” He grinned before he could help himself.

Lu was standing there, holding a flat cardboard box. His muscles showed beneath the short sleeves of his Jagged Stone t-shirt. The best part of stealing his hoodie was that XY got to see his arms. If only it didn’t also show off his number one rival’s merch.

 _“What?_ Xavier-Yves, did you invite this punk—”

“He ordered a pizza.” Lu wiggled the box. 

XY frowned. “Huh? I didn’t—”

Lu’s eyes narrowed.

“Ohhhh, _that_ pizza! Pshaw, right.”

Dad still glared down at Lu. “You better not try any funny business. Or I’ll have my lawyers on you faster than that pizza grease sticks to your hair.”

Lu smiled pleasantly, a dangerous (and sexy) gleam in his eyes. “Of course not. I’m just trying to do my job, sir.”

 _Dang,_ he was smart. And brave. And hot.

XY tried very hard not to swoon.

“I’ve got to—uh—money! Cash money. I owe you. For the pizza.”

“Well go grab it so this little snake can get out of here,” Dad said with a dismissive wave.

“Lu—uh, he can come in for a minute, right? It would be pretty unsexy of us to leave him out in the cold.”

“We’re in a hotel, and he’s not some street orphan.” Dad scrunched his nose. “Even if he smells like one.”

XY thought Luka smelled amazing, but he wouldn’t admit it in front of Dad. “Huh? I can’t hear you, I’m busy thinking about how I’m gonna cheat him out of a tip.”

That made Dad laugh. “Classic Xavier. Ruthless instincts, but not that bright.”

With that, he whistled his way out of the room, leaving XY alone with Lu. 

His heart sped up. Lu was in his _room._ Even if he was just there because XY had ordered a pizza.

Wait. He _hadn’t_ ordered a pizza.

“Did your dad just—did he really just say that? That was just… wrong.” Lu glared at the space where Dad had been standing.

“Awww, you care?” XY asked, leaning into his space. He smelled like wood and water, probably from spending so much time on that garbage boat. Or maybe it was just his cologne, but the first option sounded more romantic.

“No,” he snapped. Huh, he looked a lot more tense now than he’d been even with Dad.

“What’s up, bro? Marmalade break your heart again?” he asked hopefully. 

Lu blinked. He had gorgeous eyes, but he could really use some mascara. Or at least eyeliner. XY thought rockers were supposed to be into that kind of stuff.

“Also no. I just… shut up and give me your phone.”

“Huh?” His head tilted, but he dug his phone out of his pocket.

Lu grabbed it out of his palm before realizing it was locked. He sighed. “Will you open it? Please?”

“Sure, ’cause you asked nicely.” XY grinned and swiped his thumb in the “XY” pattern, then tossed it back. Where this was going? Was Lu going to take a selfie and set it as his home screen? That would save XY the trouble of sneaking a photo himself.

Lu set the phone on top of the pizza box, typed furiously for a few seconds, and handed it back. 

XY blinked down at the screen. Ohhhh, this was even _better!_

“You know if you wanted my number, all you had to do was ask.” XY pursed his lips, but resisted kissing Lu’s cheek again.

“I had no idea what happened to you. You might’ve left Paris, or… something.” He crossed his arms.

“So you _did_ miss me.” His heart raced, though he kept his cool. He was _XY,_ and Lu was just… the cutest boy he’d ever met. Who’d missed him.

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t take Nino’s music and run after all.”

“Pshaw, like I need his beats. I told you I was gonna make cash money music by myself this time.” XY rolled his eyes. He thought Lu believed in him. 

Not that he should. His music wasn’t good. Dad didn’t think so, anyway.

“Did you finish it?” Lu’s eyes widened. “The song you were making at Nino’s?”

His eyes darted towards his synth and computer. “Uh… nah, man. I’ve just been… y’know, kickin’ back. I can’t stay in your unsexy garbage heap _all_ the time.”

“Just… kickin’ back.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Lying to Lu felt wrong. Not like lying to his dad, or even to the paparazzi. But he wasn’t about to admit that his song had crashed and burned.

And he’d really thought he understood perspiration this time, too.

“I guess I just thought you liked kickin’ back with me,” Lu murmured.

XY’s gut twisted, like he’d eaten a bad plate of mac ’n’ cheese. “Pshaw, as _if._ I was just getting away from Cole, remember? _You_ were the one who dragged me everywhere. I didn’t even need your dumb inspiration. I’m the extraordinary XY.”

He flashed his trademarked hand sign, but really he wanted to slap himself. Even if it felt wrong, he was good at lying. _Too_ good.

Hurt flashed across Lu’s face for just a moment. Then it was gone, and he was shoving the pizza box into XY’s hands.

“Thanks for getting us on the same page.”

Crap, crap, _crap._ He wasn’t supposed to make Luka _mad._

“Wait, bruh,” XY called out as Luka stepped out of the room. “I still didn’t pay you for the pizza!”

Luka rolled his eyes. “What, you’re not going to cheat me out of that, too?”

XY chewed his lip and looked down at his feet. He’d never been so embarrassed about cheating before.

“Forget it. I don’t need money you made by ripping people off, anyway.”

And then Luka was gone, leaving XY with a warm pizza in his arms. He opened the box, but the smell of fresh cheese just made him nauseous. The last time he’d eaten a cheese pizza was with _him._

Luka was the first person to believe in him, and he’d let him down. He guessed he shouldn’t be surprised. It was Luka’s own fault for expecting something more.

He left the pizza by his synth, where it slowly grew cold.


	4. Serenade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> XY goes to patch things up, but he needs some advice first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only chapter that actually fits the prompt of the day I'm posting it. Thanks again to Maryssa for beta reading!

Luka flopped back in his bed. Had he been too harsh on XY back at the hotel? It wasn’t like XY had stood him up. He’d never _promised_ to come back to the Liberty.

But questions kept repeating like an irritatingly catchy melody. XY had always wanted to spend time with him before, even if it was just to annoy him. What changed? Had they gotten too close at Nino’s house that night? Had their accidental cuddling scared him off?

Maybe he really just read too much into things. It wasn’t like Luka had much experience understanding people, even with his guitar. Maybe XY didn’t have _any_ music in heart. Luka could’ve just been seeing what he wanted to see.

He _wanted_ to see good in XY. The only one he had to blame was himself, for believing the other boy might have actually cared about him.

_I’m just a sucker for blue eyes,_ he thought, his fingers plucking a melancholy melody.

It didn’t matter. He didn’t have XY’s number—foolishly, he’d only given the other boy his own—and he wasn’t about to embarrass himself by going back to the hotel again.

For the first time in months, the music in his heart fell silent.

XXX

“Martini! Marmalade! Marinade! Mar—whatever your name is! Help a homie out, please!” XY called up at the bakery’s balcony. He was going out on a limb here, but for whatever reason, Luka had been obsessed with the younger girl. Maybe she could help him patch things back up.

“You’re not my homie, XY!” She leaned over the railing and shouted back down at the street. “And it’s midnight! What the heck are you doing here?”

“I need your help!” he said. Admitting it made him feel stupid, but what was he supposed to do? Show up to Luka’s boat empty handed? No, XY had promised he’d make the most cash money music ever, impress Luka so hard that he fell head over heels, and then whisk him off into the sunset.

But step one: make the music. His first song had been a bust, and Luka would know if XY ripped something off. He’d probably expect it. So XY had his smaller synth packed up in a bag over his back, ready to take some more inspiration from Marmalade as soon as he could.

“Go away!” she called.

“You can’t tell me what to—! Uh, I mean— _please,_ it’s important!”

She sighed so loudly he could hear it from the ground. Then she stomped back inside.

His shoulders fell. Of course she wouldn’t help him after he’d stolen her designs, poked through her room, and forgotten her name. He turned to trudge back to the hotel, his backpack feeling heavier than ever.

The _click_ of a door opening stopped him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh—oh! You—you’re gonna help me?”

“That depends”—Martini crossed her arms—“on what _exactly_ you want help with.”

“Perspiration,” he answered quickly, and she glared. Oops. Was that the wrong word again?

“Is this some kind of prank? What, was ghosting Luka not enough for you?”

XY’s jaw dropped. “Ghosting—I did _not_ ghost him!”

“Then why did Juleka tell me he’s been sulking for the last week? She says he won’t quit playing sad songs. And _Wonderwall_ , for some reason. Anyway, she thinks it’s your fault, and even if I’m not in love with Luka, I _am_ his friend. And you hurt him.”

She jabbed a finger at his chest, hitting his “XY” necklace. The chain clinked hollowly.

“I… he missed me? Really?” He’d joked with Luka about that when he came to the hotel today, but he didn’t think he _meant_ it. 

“I don’t know. It sounds like it.” She shook her head, her pigtails swishing around her neck. “I don’t know _why,_ though. Anyway, what do you want? I was waiting on someone—er, I’m supposed to be in bed soon.”

“Ooooh, a late-night date?”

_“XY.”_

“Sorry, sorry.” He grimaced. Better not get even _more_ on her bad side when he needed something from her. “Okay, here’s the deal. I told Lu I was gonna make him the most cash money music he’s ever heard. But… I suck.”

He sighed. There it was.

“I know he likes you,” he continued, “so I thought maybe you could give me some tips? Tell me what kind of vibes he’ll vibe with, that kind of stuff.”

Marinade blinked at him. “You’re…. trying to make Luka a song?”

“Yeah. I wasted a whole week on a track Dad said was trash, and now Lu’s mad _and_ I don’t have anything to show for it.” His shoulders slumped.

“Wait, so you _already_ made a song? That’s why you weren’t talking to Luka last week?”

“Duh. I couldn’t spoil the surprise. Not that it matters. Like I said, it’s garbage. Unsexy. Not vibin’ at all.”

“...Because your dad said so?” Her head tilted. Her voice was soft and gentle. That was probably one of the things Luka liked about her. It sounded nothing like XY’s own nasally voice. Maybe if he autotuned his vocals more…

“He knows what good music sounds like. That’s how he ended up with the number one _and_ number two stars on his label.” Was XY back at number one again yet? After the Kiddy Session mess, he was probably down on sales. Stupid old Jacked Tone.

“Uh-huh. That’s how he ended up asking me to make Jagged’s album cover look like yours, and having you butcher Kitty Section’s style.”

“I didn’t _butcher_ it.” Sure, it wasn’t his _best_ rip-off job, but he’d only had a few days to pull it off. Dad had liked it more than his original song anyway.

“The point is, I don’t think your dad knows as much as he thinks he does.” Marmalade put a hand on his shoulder. “He might know what’s popular, but he doesn’t know how to match an artist with their _own_ style. Jagged Stone is a rocker. I’m a designer. And you… what’s _your_ style, XY? If you could do anything you wanted?”

He shrugged. “More of the same, I guess. The stuff my algorithm spits out. I mean, it sells, right?”

“Forget about that for a minute. What do _you_ like to listen to?”

What did he _like?_ Well… 

“I do love some sick beats. And…” He looked away, a little embarrassed. “I did like the first song I made for Lu. But Dad said it’s garbage—”

“Your _dad_ is the one who’s garbage,” Marinade growled, her fists clenching. “I think you could use a second opinion. Can I hear your song?”

His first instinct was to say no. Hadn’t he embarrassed himself enough? But it wasn’t like he really cared what she thought. She couldn’t insult him much worse than she already had. 

“I guess.” He pulled out his phone and AirPods. It wouldn’t have the same effect as fancy headphones or Nino’s speakers, but then she could at least tell him it sucked and move on to giving him some _real_ advice.

She stuck the AirPods in, and he hit play.

Surprise slammed over her face. She must be shocked that a number one (or number two, now) pop star would come up with something so stupid. Using her sewing machine noises? That pigeon man’s bird call? Really? No stars did that! He should’ve just stuck to the basic four chords, and left out lyrics like he usually did, and— 

Oh no. The lyrics.

_“Please_ don't tell Lu what I said,” he begged, hands clasped together over his phone.

She didn’t seem to be listening to him, though. She was—oh crap, she was _tearing up._ His song was so bad he’d made her cry!

He fumbled to hit pause, but Marinade’s hand closed over the screen first.

_“You_ wrote this? For Luka?”

“He’s gonna hate it.” XY groaned. “I lied to him and made him hate me and I can’t even make _one stupid song—”_

“No, no, he’s not going to hate you! XY—you really like him, don’t you?”

“Pshaw, _no.”_ He crossed his arms and turned up his nose. “Crushing on hot rockers is _so_ ten minutes ago.”

Marinade blinked, then laughed. Of course she’d just make fun of him again. “If you say so. But if you change your mind, I think it would be worth telling him.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled halfheartedly. He’d probably ruined that chance today by lying to him. If he’d even had a chance in the first place.

“I’m serious! I can tell you put your heart into this song. Luka will see it, too.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You just wanna watch me crash and burn, don’t you?”

She shook her head, laughing again. Pretty shady, if you asked him. He should’ve asked Nino for help instead, but Marinade was the one Luka had liked.

“I don’t even know for sure if he likes dudes,” XY muttered, the toe of his sneaker scuffing the street.

“Don’t worry, he’s bi. I wouldn’t encourage you if you didn’t have a chance.”

His heart started doing the macarena. It was enough to get his hopes up again—except, he still only had the one garbage song.

“I need a new track. Something super sexy that’ll blow his boat out of the water!” He paced as he talked, hands flying through the air like over an invisible synth. “But _ugh,_ I don’t have time! Lu already thinks I hate him ’cause I stopped coming over, but I can’t spoil the surprise. That wouldn’t be cash money at _all.”_

“XY, you don’t need to write a whole new song. I think yours is great just the way it is.”

His head snapped up, his hair bouncing from the force. “Wait, you do?”

“Uh-huh. Besides, if you keep waiting for the perfect moment, it’ll never come. Trust me.” She smiled sadly. “You’re better off being honest with your feelings if you can.”

His mouth opened, but before he could find any words, a crash rang out from the balcony above. He was pretty sure he heard a faint _“owwww.”_

Marinette glanced up and winced. “Well, would you look at the time! Thanks for stopping by good luck see ya!”

She darted back inside, leaving XY alone with the faint breeze trying to fight his hairspray.

“Huh. Guess it was a date after all.”

If he pulled this off, maybe he’d have a date by the end of the night, too.

XXX

_THWUMP._

Luka bolted upright, instinctively reaching for the neck of his guitar before feeling silly. What was he going to do, beat off a burglar with his instrument? He’d probably just break it, which would be even worse than getting robbed.

“Lu!” A muffled voice shouted.

Oh no. Not a burglar. Luka knew who was going to be smushed against the window before he climbed out of bed and turned around. His heartsong sped up against his will.

He hadn’t been prepared to see XY so soon after their fight at his hotel room. Frankly, he hadn’t expected to see him at all. His hair was a mess, several clumps falling out of their meticulously-styled quiff. And he was still wearing Luka’s hoodie.

“Yo, don’t just stand there! Help a dude out!”

Luka was so startled that he didn’t even argue, just scrambled up the steps to the deck, his footfalls _thump thump thumping_ in time with his heart’s pounding rhythm.

He came back. Why did he come back?

XY yelped as Luka hauled him onto the deck. Déjà vu pricked at him, but this time instead of sneering in disgust, XY fiddled with his backpack strap nervously.

“What are you doing here?” Luka asked, since XY was being surprisingly quiet. He didn’t bother tacking on the obvious _“it’s almost one a.m.”_ since XY had already proven he had no concept of time.

“Uh… I’m here ‘cause… I wasn’t very cash money to you today.”

He frowned. “Yesterday, technically.” 

“Whatever. Point is, I’m… sorry I lied to you.”

XY seemed to deflate, as if all his usual hot air finally left him. Maybe it was a side effect of his tousled hair making him look smaller, but in that moment he looked nothing like his usual sauntering self.

“It’s fine,” Luka mumbled. “It’s not like you promised to make your own music. I don’t know why I expected you to.”

“Huh? No, Lu—I _did_ make my own music. That’s what I lied about. ’Cause Dad said it was trash and I was… I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of you, y’know? I wasn’t even going to tell you, but Marinade gave me some advice, and… whatever.” He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it further. “Just—let me play you this track, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Luka blinked, trying to follow XY’s rapid-fire words. He didn’t have much time to process, though, before XY pulled his synth out of his backpack and unfolded it. How did that clunky thing _fit_ in there?

Then XY flipped a switch and pressed down on the keys, and music _exploded_ from the Liberty. Had he—had he hacked the boat’s sound system? 

“What did you do to my boat!” he shouted over the electronic sounds, but XY didn’t seem to hear. He was too focused on hitting the keys of his synth and belting out the first verse.

_“You’ve got my heart flyin’ higher than a pigeon_

_Take me out we’ll go out to a kitchen_

Stitch stitch stitch _my heart is tickin’_

_Sit by me bro, come on and listen.”_

Was that—? It _was._ Mr. Ramier’s bird call backed the track, somehow programmed into the synth. He was pretty sure that whirring noise was meant to emulate a sewing machine, too, which would explain the _stitch stitch stitch._ The noises should’ve felt jarring, but they blended strangely well with the upbeat melody. 

And XY’s singing voice… Luka had never heard it un-autotuned. It didn’t sound anything like he expected. The nasal tone was still there, but it was _clearer_ somehow. Like his heart and his words finally aligned.

_“Woah, woah, you’re slick as a viper_

_Woah, woah, I start to perspire_

_Yo, you can call me a liar_

_But oh, oh, he’s got me inspired!”_

He hit a high note that resonated in Luka’s bones. And those lyrics… did Luka hear them right? He was pretty sure he’d used “perspire” and “inspire” correctly, which was almost as shocking as the fact that he’d written an original song at all.

_“Traffic cross the street, touch my hand,_

_Lost in your eyes, can’t see land_

_Take my breath away when you hold my face_

_Chords takin’ me higher than outer space!”_

The bass dropped with that last line before the chorus repeated. XY’s energy ran through him; he could _feel_ the yearning in his voice. 

This was it. His heartsong. And, if it wasn’t just Luka’s hopeful imagination...

_“Head on your chest, oh this is real_

_Cash money can’t buy the way I feel_

_Hope your hoodie’s not the only thing I steal_

_Wanna wake up staring into eyes so teal.”_

XY looked up, meeting Luka’s wide-eyed gaze with a longing one of his own. His fingers stumbled over the synth’s keys, but he coughed and finished the last chorus, his voice shaking only slightly.

_“Woah, woah, you’re slick as a viper_

_Woah, woah, I start to perspire_

_Yo, You can call me a liar_

_But oh, oh, he’s got me inspired!_

_“Oh, oh, I’m walking a wire,_

_Oh, oh, you’ve set me on fire,_

_Yo, you can call me a liar,_

_But oh, OH, you’ve got me inspired!”_

Oh… _oh._ Luka’s heart stuttered as XY panted, hitting one last loud chord. It echoed off into the night’s silence. Luka was sure XY would hear his heart pounding now.

“So, what do you think? Pretty cash money or what?” His grin stretched too wide.

Luka swallowed, trying not to show just how much the unorthodox music affected him. “You finally learned what inspiration means.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess I did.” He chuckled. “Does that mean you liked it?”

He tried to sound casual, but Luka still felt the trace of longing from him. Maybe even desperation. He’d bared his heartsong. No matter how nervous Luka might be to admit it, he had to be honest in return.

“Dude, that was _amazing,”_ he said, stepping around the synth to rest a hand on XY’s shoulder. “Synths might not normally be my style, but I _felt_ it. You were in the moment, putting your whole soul into it. What changed?”

“Huh?” He blinked, blue eyes wide. It was hard to resist the urge to sweep his loose strands of hair back under his headband.

“I mean, why didn’t you make music like this before? You couldn’t have learned how to do this all in a week. You never gave me a real answer before.” Luka had a guess, but even after the lyrics he’d heard, he didn’t want to assume too much. He made that mistake with Marinette already, and this time…

He didn’t want to lose XY again. He’d gotten used to his annoying presence. That was all.

(The beats hopping in his heart quickly battered down that denial.)

“Bro, really? Weren’t you listening?” XY frowned, almost looking hurt. “And people say _I’m_ stupid.”

_“Hey.”_

XY there his hands in the air. “It’s _you,_ bruh. You’re the voice I hear inside my head, the reason that I’m singing—”

“Wait, isn’t that the Camp Rock song?”

“Shut up, I’m trying to make a meaningful love confession!”

Luka choked, his face flushing. _“Love_ confession? You’re—you’re serious.”

XY stared at him like he was stupid. “What, you think I’d waste my time writing a whole song for just anyone?”

“No, I just…” He _had_ thought XY was joking, or just messing with him. But it had been real. Luka hadn’t read too much into things after all. “I don’t know about love, but I—I can’t believe I’m saying this—I… might have a crush on you, XY.”

The other boy beamed, and Luka regretfully admitted it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

“Bro, I’ll take it!” XY threw his arms around his neck, and suddenly Luka had an armful of him. He smelled like hairspray and Doritos, and under that, something more subtle and hard to place.

Luka had the feeling he could get used to it.

XY suddenly pulled back, staring into Luka’s eyes again, but leaving his arms around his neck. “Wait, does this mean you’ll be my boyfriend? Do I get to kiss you? ’Cause I gotta admit you look like you could use some chapstick first—”

Luka pressed his lips to XY’s half to prove a point, half to shut him up, and half because he just wanted to. At the moment, his brain didn’t care that the math didn’t add up. 

A quiet squeal startled him into pulling back. At first he thought it was XY’s, but he just looked stunned, his eyes half-lidded and a dumbstruck grin on his face.

“I’m gonna swoon now,” he said before swaying over. 

Luka barely managed to catch him around his waist before he hit the deck. But if it _wasn’t_ XY squealing, then— 

_“Rose!”_ He hissed, catching a flash of blonde hair ducking behind the speaker. Juleka blended in better with the dark, but the faint glow from her phone screen gave her away. “Jules! Are you—wait, are you _recording_ us?”

Rose poked her head out, her fists balled up beside her cheeks. “We couldn’t help it! You two were just so _cute!”_

“I thought you’d want this for your wedding,” Juleka mumbled through a smirk.

XY sighed dreamily at that. “What do you think our wedding colors would be, Lu? Teal and purple?”

“I swear, if you don’t shut up I’ll drop you.”

“Aww, you just want me to fall for you agai—ACK!” XY thudded to the ground. “Ow… that wasn’t very cash money of you, babe.”

That was where Juleka’s video ended. 

But for the new music playing in Luka’s heart, it was just the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue should be up tomorrow!


	5. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka and XY have a double date with Marinette and Adrien.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place some amount of time later. How much later? Good question at least a few months maybe a year idk how timelines in the music industry work

“Hey! Over here!” XY waved like he was trying to flag down an airplane. 

“I’m pretty sure they’ve already seen you,” Luka deadpanned, but he couldn’t suppress a smile. As if anyone could’ve missed XY’s tall quiff, though Luka admitted he stood out more in XY’s purple jacket.

It was worth it, to see the grin it put on his boyfriend’s face. And it almost no longer smelled like Doritos.

“Sorry we’re late!” Marinette sounded out of breath as she plopped down at the edge of the Seine. Her ice cream almost fumbled from her hands, but Adrien caught it with a smile and sat beside her.

“It’s no problem. We know you’ve got busy schedules,” Luka said. 

He and XY had doubled with Alya and Nino twelve times in the last few months, but Marinette and Adrien were somehow more elusive. Akuma attacks and other last-minute cancellations kept pushing their plans back. He guessed that was to be expected when two out of the four of them were famous and the other two were getting there.

_He_ was getting there, thanks to partnering with XY on his newest album. It was a weird thought. He still played with Kitty Section too, of course, but the collaboration had brought enough attention to the tiny band to get them into a minor record deal. Nothing as fancy as what XY used to have with Bob Roth, but it had far fewer strings attached.

“So do you, now.” Adrien punched his shoulder. “You two are still going to California next week, right?”

“Yeah! Kitty Section world tour, babey!” XY grinned and flashed the new hand sign he’d come up with for the band. It looked something like a shadow puppet cat, if it was missing a leg and been run over by a truck.

Adrien and Marinette blinked in surprise, and Luka hastily corrected, “It’s _not_ a world tour. We’re just going to open for a few concerts, see if the two of us can expand our name. Jules and the others are too young to be traveling all over the world.”

“Pshaw, I’ve been trippin’ since I was, like, ten. They’d be fine.”

Luka was pretty sure “trippin” didn’t mean what XY thought it meant. Either way, Juleka might be fine with traveling to the states—Mom didn’t really care what they got up to—but Rose and Ivan’s parents would probably take issue. 

“Maybe I didn’t _want_ to bring all of them along. Did you think about that?” His heartsong beat with anticipation for the trip. Just him, his boyfriend, probably a lot of mac ’n’ cheese, a new city… there’d be so much musical inspiration, too.

XY’s mouth made a tiny _o_ before he grinned. “Aww, Lu, you didn’t tell me this was our honeymoon!”

Marinette just about choked on her blackberry-and-peppermint ice cream.

“You’re engaged?” Adrien asked, eyes wide.

“No, _NO._ Babe, you’ve got to stop that.” Luka smacked XY’s chest, making him spill a glob of blueberry-cheesecake ice cream on Luka’s hand. Luka rolled his eyes and licked it off.

“But their _faces!”_ XY cackled, but eventually relented. “Naw, we’re still takin’ it slow. It’s nice to just enjoy dating without my dad breathing down my neck.”

Getting XY to move away from his dad (and stay in Paris) was one of the best things that had ever happened to them. Luka was lucky his boyfriend was a pop star who could afford the high city rent.

“I’m really happy for you.” Marinette said once she recovered. Her smile was directed at Luka and XY equally—of course, XY had told Luka about the advice she’d given him.

“Back atcha,” XY replied, holding his fist out for a bump, which she returned with a giggle. “Looks like you finally talked to your dude too, huh. Did you play him a sick tune? Sew him a fancy little jacket?”

Adrien smirked at the blush on his girlfriend’s face. “Well, she _did_ make us matching—”

“Shut _up.”_

“...matching Ladybug and Chat Noir pajamas,” he whispered behind his hand. 

XY cracked up, laughing so hard he snorted. That laugh never failed to make Luka smile, though Juleka thought he was crazy for it.

“See, Lu, _they’re_ furries! Why can’t we get matching Viperion and, I don’t know… maybe just matching Viperion hoodies? I don’t think he has a partner.” XY frowned, tapping his lip, which was stained with a smudge of blueberry ice cream.

“You know, I think he might.” Marinette said with a wink at Luka. Wait—did she know? _How_ did she know? At least she was trustworthy; she wouldn’t give away his secret. And it wasn’t like he was taking Sass to California, anyway. “If you can convince Luka, I’ll make you some matching Viperion gear.”

Luka’s face warmed at the thought of his boyfriend in his alter ego’s merch. He wasn’t a frequent enough Miraculous holder for anyone to sell anything official-looking, but that hadn’t stopped XY from latching onto him. In XY’s words, “his abs are almost sexy enough to make me leave you, Lu.” That had been a bit of a confidence-booster.

“If you’re not too busy. And I’ll pay twice your usual commission fee,” Luka said. He had plenty of money now, and he wanted to make up for all the times Marinette had designed Kitty Section’s costumes for free. “No hoodies, though. I can’t replace this one. Maybe a t-shirt, if that’s okay?”

“Of course! And thanks, Luka.”

“Awww, my jacket grew on you,” XY said, pecking him on the cheek. Some of the ice cream stickiness was left behind, but Luka didn’t wipe it off.

“Just like someone else I know.” He bumped his shoulder before stealing a bite of ice cream himself.

“You know, I’ve never asked. How did you two end up dating?” Adrien asked. “I’ve heard parts of the story, but never straight from you guys.”

“That’s because we’re not straight,” XY said like Adrien was stupid.

Luka suppressed a snort. “I wish I could tell you. Like I said, this idiot just kind of grew on me. Like a song that’s not your favorite at first, but the more you listen to it, the more it means to you.”

“Pshaw, I’ve been in love with Lu from the first time he cradled my face and literally took my breath away. It doesn’t get gayer than that.” XY took a giant bite of the cheesecake ice cream. “An’ the way he stoo’ up to Da’?” He swallowed. “ _Very_ sexy.” 

Luka would have to down the entire cup of ice cream to fight off the flush that was forming on his face. He loved how honest his boyfriend could be; it was like he had no filter when it came to saying anything, positive or negative. But _man,_ did it make him want to kiss him indecently in public.

“You mean when he was Silencer?” Marinette blinked.

“Uh-huh. Now _that_ was a sick costume. You think we could wear something like that for our next concert?”

“Um, XY, it’s kind of rude to bring up people’s akumatizations…” Adrien began, but Luka just smiled. 

“Sure, babe. I bet they’d dig that in the States.” It wasn’t like he remembered his time as Silencer, and all things considered, Luka didn’t regret the experience. If he hadn’t been akumatized, he wouldn’t have made such an impact on XY. If anything, he just wished he could remember the face caress XY mentioned. Surely he hadn’t been attracted to XY even then?

“Well, uh… neat, then.” Marinette smiled awkwardly. She and Adrien had never been akumatized before; maybe they thought the experience was worse than it was.

“It’s great that you guys can be so open with each other.” Adrien relaxed, smiling at her.

“Yeah… it’s really nice,” she replied with a grin only _slightly_ less dopey than XY’s. She’d finally gotten to harmonize with Adrien. She deserved every bit of lovestruck happiness she could get.

“I’ll drink to that, bro.” XY gulped down the melted ice cream in the bottom of their cup. Then he tossed the cup over his shoulder, leaving his hand free to hold Luka’s.

“Dude, you can’t throw trash around. It’s littering.”

“Huh? Don’t pigeons eat trash?”

Luka rolled his eyes as Marinette and Adrien laughed. “Come on.” He tugged his boyfriend to his feet. Their hands remained linked as XY picked up the paper cup and tossed it in the nearby garbage can.

“It’s like they’re made for each other,” he heard Marinette say as they sat back down. “Yin and Yang. Pop and rock, or something like that.”

“Ooooh, Pop Rocks! That’s another thing we can get in the States! You’ve _gotta_ try ’em, Lu—it’s candy that explodes in your mouth like _BANG!”_ He threw his arms wide, almost smacking Luka in the face. “Ooh, I bet we could make a song about them! Do you wanna write the lyrics or can I? I guess you’ll have to taste them first. And we could put some sick drums in it and…”

Luka smiled, leaning against his boyfriend’s shoulder and closing his eyes as he talked. He was so _cute_ when he was invested in something, even if it was a silly American candy. Luka could feel his heart picking up tempo, the way that always made him want to get out his guitar and compose. 

But there would be plenty of time for them to make music. For now, he left the instrument on his back, content to just hold his boyfriend’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read this whole fic, thank you so much!! I know this seems like a rarepair bordering on crackship, but I actually have real feelings about them after writing this lol. Special thanks especially as always to Maryssa, Janai, and Maddy for being amazing pals and supporting this fic so much I really can’t thank you guys enough :’D


End file.
